


Motion

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Circus, Backstory, Canon Era, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Spot sees the circus come and go every year, but this time, there's a new performer that Spot just can't shake off





	Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Greatest Showman!!

It was a bright Monday morning when Spot saw the tent go up. 

Just a few days earlier, his newsies had been kicked off the pier, given an excuse of professional business. Now, Spot just wanted to laugh, well familiar with the red and gold stripes that blocked his view of the harbor.

“Well, it’ll be nice to have entertainment again,” one newsie commented as she took a drag of her cigarette and handed it off to Spot. 

Accepting the offer, Spot held the cigarette just before his mouth, a small smirk growing on his face. “Yeah, it sure will be.”

~

Spot always paid for the first show. It was customary for him, not that the new ringmaster would know. A bit wet behind the ears, the ringmaster greeted Spot with a flourish, the gold buttons on his coat catching Spot’s eye. With a touch of his cap, Spot edged his way to a seat, one where he’d be well blended within the crowd.

After all, the next nights would be sneaking in and it helped if the ringmaster didn’t recognize him. 

The show began with sparks and fire, Spot still in awe despite having seen this before. For a moment, he was allowed to be young again, the weight of a leader off his shoulders. He laughed and cheered with the crowd while the wilder acts sent them gasping at the danger before them. 

If there was only one thing on Spot’s mind, it was that he never wanted this to end. He was happy and his gaze went up and away beyond the fantasies of his thoughts. Blinking at the sight above, Spot froze in his seat, his mouth dropping open ever so slightly.

There was a new acrobat, Spot was sure, and he squinted at the figure as they twisted on the metal hoop. Their outfit shone in shimmering blues and silvers with the spotlight, the spins almost dizzying to the simple observer. 

To say Spot was entranced was an understatement and he swallowed as he caught a glimpse of a bright grin, the face of a boy who looked close to his age. 

Spot watched as long as he could, not daring to tear his eyes away for a second. All the spins, the twists, it was as if the acrobat was telling a story to the colorful music that accompanied him. Sorrows, fears, anger, joy, everything was there, not a detail left out.

Then, before Spot knew it, the act was complete, the acrobat out of sight. Spot was lost in the crowd’s cheers, his mind heavy and swarming as he tried to understand what he just witnessed. Shaking his head, Spot finally joined in with the clapping, rolling his eyes at himself 

This show was meant to be spectacular after all and Spot had to say he wasn’t disappointed.

~

Pushing in a few of his newsies, Spot checked around the area before diving into the tent himself, ready to take in another show. 

Each time he went, he brought with him a different group. Everyone deserved their chance to see the circus, to be brought to a fantastical world where anything was possible. 

As if it were second nature, Spot fell into the pattern again, the excitement sweeping him away until the flash of blue caught his eye. 

His breath caught in his throat and now a little closer than before, Spot felt a tug towards the boy. A graceful dangle in the air, Spot wished to be right up there with him, to be as free as that. He only let his gaze fall when a younger newsie tugged at his sleeve and before Spot knew it, the performance had finished. 

When the circus was done for the night, Spot walked his newsies home, but his thoughts were far from their exuberant chatter. He wanted to see the acrobat again and his mind screamed at him. 

Never before had he taken such an immediate interest in anyone. Hell, even his second-in-command had to work her way up for Spot to even acknowledge her. It was as if he was infatuated and Spot reprimanded himself for even thinking so. 

It was just a passing interest, nothing more. Soon the circus would be over and Spot would be left to live out his life as he wished.

~

Days into the circus’ schedule found Spot still sneaking in and still, to his chagrin, watching the mysterious acrobat. 

He wanted to know everything. His name, his interests, how he got into the circus. It was unlike anything Spot had experienced before and he almost made himself sick with worry over what the others would think. 

As he was filtering out with the crowd, rough hands pulled him to the side, blocking him wherever he pushed and shoved. Spot’s attempts to fight were halted as he was thrown to the ground, two large men looming over him. One rolled up his sleeves and Spot’s nerves began to get the best of him as he scrambled to his feet, searching for an escape route. 

Spot froze when he saw the ringmaster approach, the unreadable stare a challenge as Spot made himself tall.

“I know you’ve been sneaking into the circus,” the ringmaster pointed in Spot’s face. “You don’t hide yourself well. My predecessor was kind enough to explain.”

Spot scoffed at the accusation, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I paid.”

“Once.” the ringmaster enunciated, his eyes squinting a little. “But, it’s not the money I care about as much. I think you have other motives for being here.”

Spot’s stomach churned, but he held his stare. No one could possibly know the truth. Spot knew how to keep a secret, that much was certain.

“No. Just want my newsies to see the show.”

Glancing around, Spot could see now that the crowd was gone. The only people still hanging around were the backstage workers or the performers themselves. It was him versus the circus and Spot wasn’t going to make a ruckus now.

“That so,” the ringmaster stated, a finger tapping his chin before he called out a name. “Antonio!”

A low groan hit Spot’s ears first before a boy dressed in blue approached the ringmaster, a towel around his neck. “What?” he scowled. “I got water privileges first tonight, you know.”

Spot’s heart stuttered in his chest, his eyes growing wide for a moment. There he was, the acrobat, arms crossed and his face glaring with impatience. Seeing him so close, Spot had forgotten all else just to stare at him. 

The ringmaster cleared his throat and Spot recomposed himself as he was motioned to. 

“I wanted to introduce you to your new helper. You said George pulls too hard on the rope, didn’t you?”

Eyebrows furrowing, Spot went to argue, but the performer - Antonio - cut in first. 

“Him?” he let out a bark of a laugh. “He can’t hold me up.”

Spot’s nostrils flared at the insult, but he pushed down his anger as he realized what exactly he was getting caught up in. 

“Sweetheart, I could lift you any day of the week. You don’t look like you got much to you.”

Antonio’s mouth dropped open, his face twisting in anger and he went to march forward only to be stopped by the ringmaster’s arm. 

“No way in hell am I working with a right bastard like him,” Antonio spat and Spot whistled low. 

Now he was starting to feel right at home. He had a flair for dramatics too and he knew this Antonio couldn’t beat him at his own game.

“Maybe a right bastard is just what you need,” Spot smirked, adding a little chin lift at the end. 

Antonio shot his glare between Spot and the ringmaster before storming off with a sharp yell. No one seemed perturbed by the outburst, some performers even shaking their heads.

“That went well,” the ringmaster sighed, rubbing his temple. “At any rate, you owe me a few entrance fees. Work with Antonio and perhaps I’ll let things slide.”

With a small laugh, Spot glanced up at the roof of the circus tent, amused by the hand he’d been dealt. 

“All right,” he shrugged before spitting on his hand and holding it out to the ringmaster. “Oh…”

Drawing his hand back, Spot went to wipe off the spit, but the ringmaster had already taken hold of his hand, shaking firmly. 

“Maybe you’ll be the one to finally calm him down,” the ringmaster spoke low, then dropping Spot’s hand and brushing past him. 

Watching the red coat disappear, Spot couldn’t help but grin at all that had just happened. So maybe he wasn’t obsessed with Antonio anymore. After seeing this side of him, Spot wondered how anyone could hold interest in him. 

Then, he remembered how Antonio hung from the hoop, his movements fluid and memorized. To have a clear face to match with the choreography, Spot could hear his heart beat in his ears and he fled from the pier as his emotions tore at every inch of him.

~

“You’re late.”

The inside of the tent was dark save for a few spotlights and Spot rolled his eyes as he approached the center ring.

“Didn’t know we were on a time schedule, princess. Ringmaster told me to show up whenever.”

Taking off his cap, Spot set it to the side and toed along the outside ring as Antonio finally appeared in the light. Seeing Antonio dressed in short, loose clothing, Spot turned his gaze down, the piles of dust much more interesting than before.

“I practice same time every day. Don’t forget,” Antonio drawled on and Spot realized he had missed just what that time was.

“Sunset, got it,” Spot grinned, only to receive a piercing stare in return. 

Walking over to a post, Antonio put his hand on some tied rope and nodded towards the metal hoop hovering at waist height in the center. 

“This raises the hoop. Get me up until I say so and then tie it.” Antonio nodded once before he set off towards the hoop and sitting down on it. 

Jokes and insults danced on Spot’s mind but he held them down with a small, cynical laugh and set to untying the rope. Feeling the first of the resistance, Spot planted his feet on the ground and he hoisted Antonio up into the air. His arms hadn’t worked like this for some time, but he gritted his teeth, not wanting Antonio to see his struggle. 

“Good,” Antonio called to Spot’s relief and he tied the rope back up as quick as he could. 

Antonio hardly gave him any time at all, already starting on his spins. For a moment, Spot was tempted to just let the rope loose, but he did have a debt to settle. Leaning against the pole, Spot watched Antonio, hating how easy it was to fall back into the mesmerizing act. 

Hanging upside down, Antonio let his legs wrap around the hoop, his arms stretched towards the ground. Turning his head towards Spot, he pointed to the rope as he steadied himself. 

“You gotta lower me during this part. Not too fast.”

“Course not,” Spot mumbled to himself, brought back to reality by Antonio’s rudeness. 

Spot wrapped part of the rope around his arm, biting through the tension, and undid the knot as he braced his feet. Letting the rope slip one section at a time, Spot kept his gaze on Antonio, his heart racing in his chest. Whether it was out of nervousness or something else, Spot didn’t want to think about it and tightened his grip as Antonio waved at him to stop. 

At this rate, Spot wondered if he’d have to take up his old job of lifting cargo just to get used to this. If Antonio was still, it would be as much of a problem, but with all the twisting and tugging on the rope, Spot was beginning to think that Antonio was making it harder on purpose. 

“Up.”

“Please,” Spot muttered as he raised Antonio again. 

Antonio turned his head to Spot, his eyes squinting but Spot paid him no mind as he tied up the hoop quickly, shaking out his arms once the knot was solid. 

“How’re you doing there?” Antonio called in false sweetness and Spot put on as fake of a smile in return.

“Don’t you remember? I said you ain’t much.”

Scoffing, Antonio sat upright on the hoop, one hand holding on while the other gesticulated wildly.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You come into the circus acting all high and mighty...do you even know what I did to get here? What I came from?” Antonio’s voice rose until he was spilling his whole life story. 

Orphaned, abused, drowning in insecurity, Antonio had it all bundled up in his extravagant acrobatic package. Safe to say, Spot wasn’t too surprised, his mind made up as he let the outburst continue without interruptions. When Antonio had finally silenced, Spot crossed his arms, staring him down. 

“We all got tragic stories, Antonio. My old man left my mother when I was a baby. She died when I was eight and I’ve been on my own ever since. Just because you’ve had it bad, it don’t excuse your lousy attitude.”

Spot swallowed then, a fear bubbling up inside of him for revealing a past he hadn’t even told his newsies. Antonio dug out an anger, a need, Spot had never felt before and he wanted to look away, but Antonio’s studying eyes made Spot hold firm. 

“Let me down. Please.” Antonio’s voice was quiet, almost lost amongst the sound of a distant boat horn.

Without question, Spot did as he was asked, gaze straying towards Antonio as the hoop was lowered and Antonio was back on the ground. 

“Didn’t expect...that,” Antonio smiled, but his eyes did not hold the same sentiment. “Actually, don’t know what I was expecting from you.”

Spot breathed in as his nerves clawed at his mind. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for assuming.” 

Antonio nodded, his arrogance suddenly lost as he became a shell of the boy he was earlier. It was almost uncomfortable, the way Antonio was acting now and Spot wished for an insult just so they could be as they were. 

“You’ll do,” Antonio broke the stalemate and looked at Spot with a wary eye. “But let’s work up those arms, huh?”

Spot couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. “If you say so, your majesty.” Bowing, Spot waited for another bratty outburst but instead, Antonio laughed.

“Call me Racetrack. Or Race, if you prefer. Everything else is just formality.”

“Race,” Spot repeated as he straightened himself up and then returned the gesture. “Spot. Since we’re introducing ourselves and all.”

In the time that he bowed and stood, Antonio - now Race - had made his way over, the space between them hardly a space at all. 

Spot instinctively took a step away, his back colliding with the pole behind him as Race looked at him with a curious stare. 

“Hm,” was all Race said, a small smile dancing on his face. 

Before Spot could do anything, Race walked away, his figure disappearing through the flaps of the tent. The light from the setting sun was fading and Spot remained where he stood, repeating all that had happened in his mind. It was everything and nothing, yet he took his time shaking himself from his trance. 

Running over to where his cap sat, Spot placed it firmly on his head, letting out a simultaneous laugh with a groan. He’d sort this out. Race couldn’t have that much of a hold on him and nodding to no one, Spot left the tent, humming a small tune as he made his way home.

~

Spot had lost track of the time. 

He hadn’t meant to get so wrapped up in the simple problems of his newsies, but a mediator was needed and there was Spot. 

Sprinting down to the docks, Spot burst into the tent and tried to steady his breathing as he searched for Race. He was sure some kind of reprimandation was coming his way, but a green object came at his face instead and Spot caught it without a fumble. 

It was a pear, something Spot had tried only once before, and he glanced up as Race approached him. 

“It’s for you,” Race said with a full mouth, his own pear already half-eaten. 

“Uh, thank you,” Spot blinked, not wanting to take a bite with Race watching him. 

With a shrug, Race sat down on one of the wooden benches and patted the space next to him, gaze expectant, almost eager. Slowly, Spot joined his side, but he kept an eye on Race, untrusting of his gestures. 

“I wasn’t in the circus all my life, as you know,” Race began, his eyes on the canopy above them. “Ran away from the orphanage when I was near seven...maybe eight...they took me in without question.”

Spot had taken his first bite out of the pear and he turned away as Race looked at him. For a moment, it was nothing but chewing exchanged between them before Race wiped his mouth and started up again. 

“It was a different circus. I like this one, but there were stranger acts in my first circus. They taught me everything I know, but I still have lots to learn.”

Spot nodded, working his way through the pear as he listened. As simple as the moment was, it was luxury Spot would rarely have and he found himself enjoying the sound of Race’s voice. 

“What about you?” Race nudged, setting the pear core on the bench. 

Shrugging, Spot picked at the stem of his pear, twisting it as if trying to distract himself. “Dunno. After my mother died, I don’t remember too much. Fell asleep in an alley, woke up in the lodging house. Some older boys took care of me, taught me how to sell papes, sneak some money if I had to.”

“My old circus would’ve loved you,” Race commented and Spot gave him a quizzical stare. “They liked to pick pockets.”

Spot raised his eyebrows, but refrained from saying anything on the matter. Taking another bite from his pear, Spot hoped that signaled the end of his life story until Race nudged his side. 

“So, you happy then?”

Spot sighed, taking a moment to focus on the final bite of the fruit than Race’s question. “Happy enough.”

As soon as Spot’s pear was finished, Race grabbed his hand, prying the core from his grasp. Spot whipped his head towards Race, frowning just a little and Race stood, a tinge of unfamiliarity dancing on his face. Motioning with his head, Race walked from the tent first, leaving Spot to trail behind as he wiped his hand on his shirt. 

He should’ve been more careful with eating the pear. 

Down at the water’s edge, the two washed their hands, Race throwing the cores to some stray seagulls that littered the docks. Nothing was exchanged between Spot and Race beyond the occasional glance and by the time they were back in the tent, Spot’s mind was buzzing away. 

He had enjoyed all of this, the talking, Race’s gift. It made Spot feel important, more so than he ever did in his time of being the leader of Brooklyn. Race didn’t need him, but Spot couldn’t help think that maybe, Race wanted him. Wanted him to stay, wanted him to help, yet ask no more of Spot than what he already was. 

As he lifted Race up into the air, Spot imagined that all of Race’s smiles were for him and he grinned back, his heart reaching out as Race’s arms stretched towards him.

~

Even with sore arms for more than a few days, Spot managed to keep up with Race and found his company entertaining as he learned the ins and outs of the act. He saw how Race would take bits from his previous performances, weaving them in an entirely new way like he always had something new.

It impressed the audience, so Spot wasn’t going to say a word. Much less since he still found himself snapping out of the illusion each and every night. 

As Race spun, the crowd gasping in awe, Spot hoisted the hoop up and tied the rope around the post, allowing Race to adjust his position. For a second, Spot’s concentration was broken by a sharp popping sound and he glanced behind him, pursing his lips at the children that raced to their seats. Their newly bought souvenirs only added to the rumble of circus goers and to Spot’s list of distractions. 

Shaking his head, Spot focused back on Race and it was then he felt the rope tug a little. Lurching forward, Spot grabbed onto the rope just as it slipped from its hold, the hoop and Race stuttering for just a moment. Even on the ground, Spot saw the momentary panic in Race’s eyes, his head whipping towards Spot. 

Ignoring the heated stare, Spot secured the rope, making sure the knot would hold this time and slinked behind the pole to avoid Race glancing at him when he could. 

The performance couldn’t be over soon enough and Spot let out a sigh of relief when Race was back on the ground. As Race exited the ring, he didn’t go his usual way, but instead honed in on Spot. 

Race’s eyebrows were furrowed and Spot could feel himself shrinking under the searching eyes. He wished Race would start yelling or lash out just to diffuse whatever was happening now, backing away as Race approached. With a small sigh, Race grabbed Spot’s hand, stopping him in his tracks before dragging him away.

“Whoa, Race, what’re you…?” Spot began, but his voice gave out when Race gave him a pointed stare over his shoulder. 

Ignoring the warmth of Race’s hand, Spot allowed himself to be led as Race brought him towards the makeshift living quarters near the main tent. As soon as Race dropped his hold, Spot rubbed his fingers together, hiding his hand behind his back.

“What’s going on?” Race began his questioning, his voice low and, to Spot’s disbelief, concerned. 

Spot huffed, shaking his head. “Got distracted is all. I caught you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but what if you hadn’t?” Undeterred, Race crossed his arms, his eyes boring holes into Spot. 

“Look,” Spot threw his hands up, a slight shake on the edge of his words. “I’m sorry, all right? I should’ve made sure the knot was tight. What more do you want me to say?”

Race remained silent, as if expecting more from Spot. The sounds of the public drifted amongst them and Spot, for a moment, thought to run. 

“Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t something in your life,” Race shrugged, dropping his arms. “I mean, if you need some time away from the circus or–”

“No.” 

Both boys stared at each other, Spot cursing himself for reacting, and Race, well, Spot wasn’t sure. Race seemed to be battling between amusement and confusion before settling on a stern nod. 

“Well, if something comes up, let me know. I’m not here to work you to death.”

Spot laughed loud and clear at this. Race was showing him more compassion than nearly anyone else in his life, as if they were more than a performer and his helper. Spot was convinced it was all a joke, but when Race didn’t laugh, Spot recomposed himself, clearing his throat. 

“I, uh, sorry,” Spot fell into apologizing. “Just never really heard that before. From anyone.”

Race nodded, his face concentrated with concern and Spot couldn’t help jumping to say more. 

“Thanks, Race. I’ll keep it in mind.”

The glimmer of a smile started on Race’s face but before either could do anything else, waves of performers marched towards where Race and Spot were standing. Taking that as his cue, Spot touched the brim of his cap as goodbye, Race waving in return. 

Weaving through the tents and curious glances, Spot didn’t release his breath until he had reached the familiar dusty streets. Whatever that was, the offer Race had given Spot made his stomach flip and he shoved down the impending feeling of sickness as he marched down the uneven streets.

~

Something wasn’t right. 

Race was always in the tent before Spot, but after quickly searching the area, Spot could find no signs of him. 

Rushing to where the temporary housing lay, Spot ran into a tent without so much as a hello, finding himself under the testing stares of the circus performers.

“I’m looking for Race. Racetrack,” Spot spoke, his words rushed and garbled. 

A girl with pure white hair pointed to the flap of another tent connected to the one Spot had just entered and with a nod, Spot headed in that direction.

“Race?” Spot asked as he pulled back the flap, his heart sinking at what he saw. 

Race’s eyes were red and puffy, his outfit half-on as he tried to cover his face. “Hi Spot,” Race’s voice strained as he tried to sound happier than he was.

Sitting down across from him, Spot waited for Race to have the first words all while wishing he could help wipe the tears away.

“I...I got too into my own mind,” Race began, shaking his head. “I’ll be okay. I just get like this sometimes.”

Reaching out, Spot gauged Race’s face before he laid his hand on top of Race’s, squeezing just a little. He knew. Some days, just getting out of bed was asking too much. If it wasn’t for his newsies, Spot didn’t know where he would have ended up.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Spot spoke just above a whisper.

When Race’s eyes met his own, it was a reflection of himself staring back and Spot’s throat tightened up. In that moment, all he could do was lean in to pull Race close to him, hoping this gesture was enough. A small hiccup escaped from Race before his face was buried in Spot’s shoulder, soft sobs leaving him. It took all of Spot’s will to not break down with Race and he didn’t bother to wipe away the few tears that escaped him. They remained as they were, silent, hurting, understanding.

It wasn’t until Race started to lean back that Spot lightened his hold, watching as Race ruffled his own hair and pulled the outfit on properly. 

“Thanks,” Race nodded, meeting Spot’s eyes again. “I needed that.”

Spot gave a soft smile, his hands still holding tight to Race’s arms. With a final squeeze, he let go, his gaze straying to the tent exit. 

“I still wanna rehearse. Don’t think you’re getting out of that.” Race’s brighter attitude was coming back and he jumped to his feet, taking a deep breath in. “Ready?” Race asked with a small stretch before holding out a hand to Spot.

Spot rose, his hand shaking until their fingers brushed and Race led them from the tent. Spot blushed a little, but no one seemed to pay them mind, much less their hands that were so entwined. When they found their places, no more was exchanged beyond small smiles and Spot hoisted Race up into the air.

The rehearsal was one of the smoothest they had and both Race and Spot couldn’t help compliment each other by the time they were finished. Spot pulled Race into another hug unabashedly, the two staying as they were for longer than planned.

By the time the embrace ended, Spot found it difficult to meet Race’s eyes, but with Race’s finger lifting his chin, Spot didn’t have much choice in the end. Both were caught in suspension, the time around them slowing before Race jumped back, shaking his head. 

“I’m glad I’ve got you, Spot,” Race grinned as he kept stepping away from Spot. “You make it home safe now, you hear?”

With a nod, Spot returned the grin, his heart still beating wildly in his chest. All he could think of was Race. His face, his touch, his emotions. Just him.

Spot was being swallowed whole, the world rushing around him, and, truth be told, he never wanted it to end.

~

The days blended together and soon, Spot was caught up in his pattern with Race. It was nice to have this, something else to do besides hawking headlines. It didn’t come without its questions, of course, but Spot had kept his newsies’ interest down with outrageous stories until they no longer wished to know his business.

“You ever faint?” Spot called up one afternoon as Race went into his signature upside-down hang. 

“Nah,” Race answered mid-spin. “What kind of acrobat would I be then?”

Spot made a noise of agreement and pulled on the rope a little to see if the small shift would mess with Race’s movements. 

“Stop.” 

While there was no malice, Spot could hear the warning in Race’s voice and he held his hands up in mock surrender as Race halted his spinning to glare at Spot. 

“You want me to fall or something?” 

“What kind of acrobat would you be then?” Spot repeated, flashing a grin as Race shook his head. 

“You think it’s so easy. Why don’t you come up here and try it?” Race bit, moving up to grab onto the hoop with his hands. 

Spot laughed as he started at the knot, waiting for Race’s command. “Wasn’t saying it was easy.”

As the rope unraveled, the silence that met him was unusual and Spot turned to see Race sitting on the hoop, watching him. 

With furrowed brows, Spot brought Race down until he was low enough where Spot figured he could reach up and grab the hoop himself. 

“Tie the rope up and come over here.”

Realizing what Race was playing at, Spot cracked a smile even as a huff left him. He could easily leave but instead, he did as he was told and walked to the center of the ring. 

Just underneath Race, Spot realized he’d have to jump to actually reach the hoop and he asked with his eyes.

“Go on,” Race grinned, patting what little space on the hoop there was. 

Spot laughed before jumping and his hands latched onto the cool metal. Now hanging, Spot wasn’t sure how to pull himself up but Race seemed to have this all thought out. Grabbing onto one of Spot’s arms, Race guided Spot up until he was securely on the hoop, the two needing to rearrange their positions just a little. 

It wasn’t what Spot had in mind. 

He was practically sitting on Race, knees on either side of his lap and braced on the curved metal. His arms and hands were resting near where the rope and hoop met, the rope creaking just a little as they swayed. 

Spot could feel Race’s breath on his face, the matching stare, and he gripped tight to the hoop in fear of losing himself in more ways than one. 

“Not so bad,” Spot murmured as he took in all of Race’s features.

“No, it’s not,” Race agreed and it was then Spot noticed one of Race’s hands letting go of the hoop and finding its place on Spot’s hip. 

He was caught and Spot couldn’t believe he let himself walk right into this. Fingers trailed along his side, but he held tight to the hoop. After all, a fall from this height would still hurt if he didn’t land correctly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spot could see Race’s fingers reach towards his face and he turned his head away just as Race was about to touch him.

“Do you want me to stop?” Race asked, his eyebrows creasing in concern. 

_No_ was the first word in Spot’s mind, screaming at him, and he shook his head as his heart stuttered in his chest. From Race’s first performance, Spot had wanted nothing more than this moment. Yet, to have it real, so close, Spot couldn’t help his nerves and he shivered when Race’s hand cupped his cheek. 

Daring to look back into Race’s eyes, Spot felt the immediate pull, the same wants just painted in another face, and whether it was him or Race who moved first, Spot couldn’t tell. 

Their lips moved together in a way that Spot imagined a fairytale kiss would be like. While there were no fireworks, no cheers from the crowd, he could still feel it all inside as Race held onto him. He never wanted the kiss to never end but the metal was digging into his legs and Spot pulled away with a scowl.

“Not you,” he reassured Race. “Kneeling like this just…”

With a small laugh, Race helped Spot out of his position until Spot was hanging from the hoop and staring back up at Race. 

“You following me?” he asked just before he let go. 

Spot fumbled on his landing, falling onto his back, but his gaze held true and Race grinned at him before following suite with a much more graceful stance. 

“All the way,” Race held out his hand. 

Taking the offer, Spot’s heart lifted as he was brought back to standing and he hoped for another kiss. Race, however, had other ideas. 

Running away with his laughter ringing in the air, Race glanced over his shoulder at Spot and with no hesitations, Spot chased after him. 

It wasn’t until they had reached a secluded part of the docks that Race allowed Spot to kiss him, their figures hidden behind the rows of wooden pillars. 

For now, it was just them and Spot held onto Race tight as the world around them was forgotten.

~

The final days of the circus were looming and with it came a pit in Spot’s stomach. What was to become of Race was a mystery, but he didn’t want to ask. In such a short amount of time, they had become a dream and Spot wasn’t ready to shatter the illusion. 

“You’re late,” Race called as Spot entered the tent. 

Familiar words haunted his memories and he tugged off his cap, refusing to meet Race’s eyes. 

“Spot?” Race approached, a hand held out. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Spot shrugged it off, brushing past Race to the rope. “We rehearsing or what?”

A hand on his arm stopped him and Spot focused on the coarseness of the rope. The day just needed to be over. He needed more time to think about this. What they were.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” Race spoke in a tone Spot hadn’t heard since their first days together. 

It sent a chill down his spine and he fiddled around with the wooden post as Race stared him down. His fears were bubbling up until Spot could no longer contain himself.

“You’re leaving after this,” he blurted out. “Going around with the circus, leaving Brooklyn. I won’t see you again, will I?”

The area was too quiet for Spot’s liking. He wanted something else to focus on than the fall of Race’s face. Spot looked away, displeased that he had guessed it all. He hardly noticed the sigh that left Race, his own thoughts turning bitter and melancholy.

“I mean, if Manhattan’s too far away for you, then yes. You won’t see me again.”

Blinking, Spot dared to meet Race’s gaze. That wasn’t supposed to be his response. Here Spot had been planning his goodbyes, a fragile promise of friendship, and he frowned when he was met with a sly grin. 

“Kinda thinking of settling here. Maybe selling papes. Heard Manhattan’s got some open beds at the lodging house.” 

“What about the circus?” Spot shook his head in disbelief. “Everyone loves you.”

Race shrugged as if all the answers were simple. “It wasn’t going to last. I ain’t special.”

“Like hell you ain’t,” Spot muttered, only to blush when Race’s face lit up at this. 

“Well, maybe just to you, I am,” Race teased and Spot swatted away his poking finger. 

Race would just be across the bridge now, not on another coast like Spot had imagined. His broken dreams were starting to become whole again and he took Race’s hand in his own, squeezing it. 

“Well, you got selling privileges in Brooklyn. Remember that,” Spot nodded, making a note to explain a few details to his newsies later. 

Spot didn’t know how much bigger Race’s smile could get and he felt his own tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Then will you let me find a home in Brooklyn?”

“You always got a home here,” Spot automatically answered. 

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now and Spot ducked his head in attempted to hide his blush. He shifted when Race pulled his hand away, watching out of the corner of his eye as Race wrapped his arms around him.

“That’s real sweet, you know,” Race grinned, resting his chin on Spot’s shoulder. 

His eyes glistened in the fading light and Spot lifted an arm to wrap it around Race’s waist. “I mean, if you wanted to start here…,” Spot began, testing the waters. 

Either way, Race was staying in New York so if he chose Brooklyn or Manhattan, Spot would be happy with whatever Race picked. 

“Mm, not that I don’t want to,” Race murmured into Spot’s shoulder. “Just wanna get my feet wet, you know?”

Spot laughed a little at this and nodded his head. “Yeah, they got some characters there in Manhattan.” 

“Oh, so you can introduce me then,” Race grinned, his fingers kneading Spot’s arm. 

“ ‘Spose,” Spot rolled his eyes, letting his smile remain on his face. 

With Race’s eager smile, the two swaying just ever so slightly together, Spot was unable to help himself as he captured Race’s lips in a soft kiss. 

It was as if his life was starting anew and Spot sighed in unison with Race as they shared a promise in the making.

~

“...and that’s how I ended up here!” Race spread his arms wide and grinned at all the boys crowded around them.

Met with a few groans and headshakes, it was Jack who piped up with a, “Yeah, sure it was, Race.”

Unbothered by the communal disbelief, Race shrugged and leaned back against a wall, hands behind his head. Next to him, Spot pursed his lips in attempt to hide his smile as newsies filtered from the common room of the lodging house. 

Once it was just the two of them, Race brought his arms down and Spot noticed how close Race’s hand landed next to his own. 

“Notice you left out a few details,” Spot commented as their fingers brushed. 

“Well, you said you’d soak me if I said anything ‘bout the kisses,” Race nudged Spot, which to him was just an attempt to grab onto his hand. 

Spot hummed in agreement, his thumb rubbing the top of Race’s hand. “I got a reputation to keep, you know?”

When Race squeezed his hand, Spot spared a glance at him, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Even now?” Race whispered, his face dangerously close. 

Spot barely had a chance to shake his head before Race closed the gap between them and he sighed into the kiss. As quick as it was, it still made Spot blush and he rubbed his face with his free hand. 

“I can’t go up there looking like this,” Spot grimaced, staring at the doorway. 

Why he had promised Race he’d stay in Manhattan tonight was beyond him, but Race worked in mysterious ways. 

“I’ll just tell them you caught a quick fever,” Race laughed and tugged Spot up towards the bunk room. 

Luckily, with everyone getting ready for bed, hardly any paid mind to Spot. It allowed him to settle in next to Race in his bed without trouble, the two facing away from each other for appearances. 

“Psst, Race, is it true?” Boots asked from his bed and Spot couldn’t help raise his eyebrows. 

The entire room didn’t need to know their business, but he wasn’t going to yell at Boots. 

“Sure is, Boots. Spot’ll tell you his version in the morning,” Race whispered back. 

Spot rolled over, grabbing onto Race’s shoulder to make them look at each other. “What?” he hissed and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boots’ expression fall. 

“I mean,” Spot shrugged, letting go of Race’s shoulder. “Maybe.”

With a bright grin, Boots buried his face in his blanket to let Spot and Race be and Spot glared down at Race. 

“C’mon, it’d be fun. Maybe then the rest will believe us,” Race teased.

Laying on top of Race in defeat, Spot grumbled, not wanting to give Race the pleasure of his rendition of their meeting. The last time Spot tried, he became a stumbling mess, his face betraying him with a tinge of pink until Race had to take over. He didn’t hear the end of it from anyone for almost a month straight. 

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Race smiled, sensing Spot’s discomfort. 

Lifting his head, Spot gazed into Race’s eyes, clear as ever despite the darkness around them. As he entwined their hands together, Spot glanced around the room once before he and Race met each other in a small embrace. 

Even though Race had left the circus, every day felt like being on that hoop with him and when they curled into each other, Spot’s heart was as free as the memory of Race spinning in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> this had been sitting in my drafts until i added a whole 1k section to it like two days ago lmao
> 
> [Blue Hellsite](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


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